


The Sound of a Second

by thingsishouldntbedoing - discontinued (arminoni)



Series: The Symphony of Two Thousand Years [4]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College, College AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-01
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-28 07:52:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/989585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arminoni/pseuds/thingsishouldntbedoing%20-%20discontinued
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[ON HIATUS UNTIL 12/10/13] His last wish is for Jean to fall in love again. Fall for the man he'd loved so many years before in a world that existed only in dreams. With Eren's desperate search for the people in his memories comes collateral damage. [Companion to The Rhythm of a Metronome]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You were only waiting for this moment to arrive.

**Author's Note:**

> This story begins after chapter five of [The Rhythm of a Metronome](http://archiveofourown.org/works/978749/chapters/1926358). 
> 
>  
> 
> **I have discovered that it is completely necessary to read at least Chapter 5 of Metronome in order to fully understand this companion fic. It is not well understood without the previous storyline and exists simply as an addition to the universe of Metronome. _Please understand this._**
> 
>  
> 
> This exists in the same universe.
> 
> Chapter title from "Blackbird" by The Beatles.
> 
> tumblr: thingsishouldntbedoing
> 
> tracking: fic: soas, fic: metronome, series: their beating hearts thingsishouldntbedoing

Armin parked his car, sitting in silence for a moment. It had been two days since he’d met Marco; since he’d met _Jean._

_“Don’t ever think… for a moment that a single memory of you has ever been tarnished by one of me.”_

He gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white. He couldn’t get himself steady long enough to think, not since they’d left that evening. His dreams had become more distinct than ever before, Jean’s face bright in the shadow of his days. _How can I even begin to understand? The thought of losing someone so precious to you a second time?_

\--- 

Jean could count every fragile bone beneath his fingers, kiss each freckle against the sharp edges of his shoulders, taste the salt of his tears as he rested his tired head against his shoulder. A bath was a nightly ritual. The chance for them both to unwind as Jean’s hands stroked suds over paths of blue veins, a mapwork of fine lines beneath paper-thin flesh that rose and fell with each soft breath. He could feel his heartbeat beneath his hand as he washed around the mediport, kissing his cheek as his fingers passed near and earning a kiss to the lips as his hand curled into Jean’s. 

“How are you feeling today?” His voice was deep against Marco’s ear, tickling his cochlea, as he dried him off with a warm towel. 

“Mmm… tired,” Marco said at barely a whisper, letting Jean pull him into clean pants and button his shirt over his slender frame. “Soon I’m not going to be able to get out of bed.” 

“Don’t say stuff like that,” Jean told him and braced his hands on his thin hips to rub his thumbs over the hard edges of bone. “I love you, Marco.” 

“I love you, too,” how that smile made his heart melt. Marco tucked his face into his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around his husband. “Will you invite someone over for me?”

“I’d do anything for you,” Jean answered as he pressed soft kisses against his temple.

“I want Armin to come back.”

Jean’s blood ran cold and Marco could almost feel it. His husband was terrified of Armin and everything he represented. He clutched his fingers into the fabric of Jean’s shirt and closed his eyes. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Marco.”

“You said you’d do anything for me.”

“Marco please don’t make me do this. I don’t want anyone else but you,” Jean protested. 

“Then why were you saying his name last night?” Marco asked as his husband tensed. “I hear you in your dreams. How happy you were with him, how happy you can still be.”

“Marco please don’t talk like this…”

“You have to be realistic and I… I want to be friends with him again.”

“You’re a crazy person.” 

“I’m crazy for you, Jean~” Marco said playfully and Jean laughed. His laughter was so scarce these days. 

\--- 

Armin laughed as Marco flirted with Jean shamelessly just to see him blush, their hands linked on the table. "This has been wonderful I never get to go out..." The cannula drew lines in his smile as others in the restaurant looked haphazardly over at their table. 

"You're never well enough, I shouldn't have let you out this time," Jean chided. He could see Marco tiring, feel the strain of being alive on his body, but he was alive and that was what mattered. 

Armin watched Jean closely, the way his body countered every movement from his husband and the adoration in his eyes when he looked at him... How could he ever compare? What did Marco think was going to happen when he died? _I'm somebody he has no history with. We didn't train together. We're not commander and tactician. What does he want?_

Marco could see Armin's hesitance, glancing to watch Jean search the blonde's face and learn the worry lines, the gentle purse of his lips, the way his bangs fell over his forehead with each absent pass of his fingers. _Please fall in love with him again, Jean._

"Hey... Let us know that you got back alright it's a long drive," Jean had put Marco in the car already, grabbing the door as Armin climbed into his driver's seat. 

"Yeah I will..." Armin nodded as he looked up. Jean was struck by his eyes. He always was, honestly, the way they shifted from cerulean to grey blue to navy and all the colors in between. He could remember them together, had seen it in his dreams, but he questioned it. He'd had Marco this time. He didn't need this boy. 

"Good. Be careful," Marco was watching them fall in love. And it was horribly beautiful. 

The slamming of Armin's car door was a note of finality. 

\--- 

The next time they were all together Armin was sitting next to Jean in the theatre. He whispered to Marco softly whenever there was a lull in the movie until his eyes began to droop closed: it had been a long drive and he'd been spending most of his time with them these days. 

"Did he go to sleep?" Marco whispered and Jean glanced over before nodding. "Good he's been so tired driving out here all the time." 

Jean felt a fondness in his chest as he watched him sleep; remembering the times he'd found him sound asleep in his harness over tactics notes and excursion diagrams. "Maybe if you weren't such a slave driver," Jean looked back at Marco to find a sweet smile on his thin face. He liked that look on him, the playful glint in his eyes. "What?" 

"Nothing... I'm just happy you're happy." 

"I'm happy with you," he caught his hand on the side of his face and kissed him. 

\--- 

“I guess all this is Marco’s idea of a sick joke, huh?” Jean asked one night while Armin was cooking in their kitchen. His blonde hair was half pulled back, a baggy soft blue sweater pulled over jeans with its sleeves rolled up around his elbows. It was comfortable when he didn’t have anywhere to be. Though at times he wished he was anywhere but here. 

“I don’t think so,” Armin smiled softly. He had known them a week, and in that week Marco’s health had deteriorated so dramatically Armin felt as if he’d been holding out just to see if Jean would find someone. To see if Armin would show. 

“Have you heard all that stuff he’s said?” Jean asked. “About us?”

“Someone had to have told him,” Armin looked up at him and Jean looked away. “So you remember everything?”

“Ah… to a point…” He folded his arms over his chest. “Can I tell you something?” He murmured and Armin glanced up curiously.

“What is it, Jean?" It wasn't often Armin saw his head down. He'd seen him this way only a few times before; once after a particularly bad slaughtering of recruits. 

“I almost… don’t want to go back in there,” He whispered, broad shoulders trembling under the effort. Armin’s eyes burned. 

He didn’t know what to say, what was he supposed to say to him? The love of his life was dying. Again. And, again, Armin could do absolutely nothing but watch him fall apart. He wasn’t sure when he’d wrapped him up in his arms, when their lips had met, when his tears had dropped onto his face… when his fingers had tangled into his undercut… when the warmth of his arms had surrounded him. 

Marco’s face was fond, watching from the other room. He could just barely see their embrace around the corner of the doorframe. It didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would. Knowing Jean would be okay in the end, knowing he wasn't leaving him alone, knowing there was happiness for him... He could be okay with that. 

"Stop... Stop... This..." Armin pressed his hands to his chest, looking up into golden eyes that sent him into déjà vu in the worst and best of ways. "We can't do this..." 

Jean felt his stomach turn, guilt hitting him like a gunshot, and he fled the room to leave Armin staring at the space he'd left... Covering his face with his hands to hide the tears that slid down his flushed face. 

_I can't come back here again._ He looked up to find Marco's soft brown eyes watching him, kind and understanding. _This is too much weight for me to bear._

\--- 

Marco slept in a hospital bed now, frail and failing as Jean cared for him tirelessly. Armin sat quietly in the bedroom, he'd spent time with Marco that day; talking about homework and school and Eren's crazy adventures until Jean had realize that Marco hadn't eaten. "Jean... Jean sit down." Marco murmured as he caught his hands. "I'm fine I don't need anything." 

"You need to eat, Marco." 

"I don't feel hungry you know this medicine makes me sick." 

"You need to eat something... I'll make you something..." Jean's hands shook. 

Armin felt suspended. This weird out of body experience of being inside a moment but ultimately a smear on the glass of time. He could hear everything that was said, see it happening, smell each drip of the IV, and taste every desperate word. It was all so disconnected. 

"Stop," he said finally and the others fell quiet. "Please just stop." 

"I'm going to die soon, aren't I?" Marco's voice was a whisper, shattering the room. Pin pricks of pain, like points of glass against Armin's skin, echoed the ache in his heart. 

Jean dropped to the bed, knees taken from him as he buried his face in his hands. He didn't have the strength. Not now. 

"I don't... want to die," Marco's soft brown eyes found Armin's...pleading. 

Armin couldn't stand this. Watching someone waste away, watching Jean waste away with him. All he wanted to do was run and never return to this house where everything was pain and ache and desperation. But instead he rose to his feet and sat on the hospital bed, cradling Marco in his arms and letting his fragile form shiver against the warmth of his body. 

"I don't want to die," Marco's choked whisper was harsh and hot on Armin's neck. "Please..." 

Armin didn't cry, cradling his hand on the back of his neck and letting his fingers curl against the smooth skin of his scalp beneath the knitted hat. He had to be strong. 

Who else would be strong in this world if not him? 

He was their shelter in the storm, for both of them. 

The person in whose arms they could rest; if only for a moment. 

He understood now. 


	2. So much to say, no words to convey.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The news doesn't come as a surprise. Armin makes some bad decisions and Jean's feelings aren't considered by the writer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Welcome back to the wonderful(miserable) world of Metronome's universe. I hope I find your hearts broken. 
> 
> Next chapter will be up perhaps Sunday, a little earlier than expected but I had to break this one up into pieces for pacing's sake. 
> 
> So thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy!
> 
> tumblr: thingsishouldntbedoing
> 
> tracking: fic: the sound of a second

It rained the day he died. 

A cold, bitter rain that rushed the streets and took away the last warmth of summer that still clung to the autumn leaves. 

Armin got the call before anyone else. Jean’s voice was hollow and stiff, asking him to come to the house. 

He’d been in class. In the middle of lab. And when he left life continued, as if nothing terrible had happened, as if he wasn’t driving to console his late friend’s husband. 

As if the titans had never existed and none of this was related. 

He called Eren on his way, knowing he was with Mikasa, letting them know with a broken voice. 

The rest of the day was a goddamned mess. 

He made it there before Marco’s parents, wrapping Jean up in his arms when his knees went weak. “Is he…?” He felt Jean shake his head. _They already took him._ He sank under the weight of Jean’s body, unable to support him with the weakness in his heart. “Christ…” It was all too much, too much to think about, too much to handle… he leaned into his touch Jean’s hands glided up the back of his hoodie, their mouths meeting in guiltless comfort. It was a quiet moment, soft and reassuring, Armin was Jean’s rock in the storm. 

He had been since the day they’d met. 

Jean didn’t cry. No; the entire time that Marco’s parents were there he was strong and careful and quiet. Nothing like his usual self. When Jean’s mother arrived and she fluttered around him Armin stood quietly to the side, holding his gaze. It all seemed so surreal, that he was here and Marco wasn’t, that Jean of all people had to be strong at this moment for the family that sobbed around him. That the person who’d just lost the love of his life was the only one not allowed to break down. 

Why did these things always happen this way? Armin wanted to scream at them all. Couldn’t they see Jean was suffering? Couldn’t they see that all he wanted was to be left alone? Didn’t they care? But he was quiet. He was a stone on the side of the road, a shadow passing over their faces as they mourned someone he barely knew… but felt he’d known forever. 

“Is that all?” Jean finally spoke as they stood in the kitchen, deep voice rushing over his ear. 

“I think so…” Armin looked up at him over his shoulder. He looked haggard, golden eyes tired. Marco’s illness had taken a toll on him as well. “You should go take a shower and head to bed.” 

“Where are you going to sleep?” His fingers pulled at the hem of his t-shirt, cool pads gliding against the edge of his jeans. 

“O-On the couch… Jean stop…” he said at barely a whisper, glancing to make sure the others were nowhere to be seen. 

“Why?” He was emotionally compromised, exhausted, depressed, lonely… what would be so wrong with giving him what he wanted? Armin hesitated to answer. 

“Jean this… we can’t do this…” He protested weakly as the taller man turned him around. 

“Why can’t we?” He begged an answer and Armin’s blue eyes wavered. “What’s so wrong about it?” His voice was ragged, frayed at the edges and unravelling in the dark. 

Armin could come up with answers for that one; none of which he liked very much. He opened his mouth to say something before Jean drew away from him, looking up towards the stairs as Marco’s mother walked down with tears in her eyes. 

_Does no one care what Jean feels?_ He wondered as he watched him wrap his arms around her to console her. 

_If I give into him am I being selfish?_ Armin watched his own face in the mirror as he brushed his teeth, fingers curling around the porcelain sink. _Or am I doing what Marco wanted?_ He spit the toothpaste out and watched it wash down the sink, searching his heart. _Am I caring about Jean if I agree? Am I thinking about what he needs? Not what he wants in his compromised state?_

Will he regret it? 

That was the biggest question. Would Armin become a regret in the greater scheme of things once Jean came to his senses? 

He hoped not as he glanced at the pill bottles and biohazard box; at the leftovers from the person who had not been gone for a full day yet, the person who had only asked one thing of him. 

_“Please take good care of my husband.”_

Armin swallowed hard and put his hand on the doorknob, hesitating once more. _If I do this. Will_ I _regret it?_

He already knew the answer to that as well as he walked out to find Jean sitting on the edge of the bed that he had shared with Marco. Before he’d been moved to the living room… before Jean had spent his nights sleeping on the couch and holding his fragile hand. 

“Can I get you anything?” Armin’s flannel pajama pants caught under one of his feet and tugged down just slightly beneath his t-shirt. One of Eren’s that had been left at his house one day or another. Not that it mattered. 

“It’s better,” Jean’s voice was hollow as he looked up at Armin. “He’s not suffering anymore.” 

Armin walked over and stepped between his knees, heart aching at how easy it was to slide his fingers into his hair. How familiar it was to have his arms wrapping around his hips, forehead against his solar plexus. How comfortable they seemed together. 

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed that way. Hours it could have been but it wouldn’t have mattered. What did was that for the first time that day someone was supporting Jean. Someone was holding him close and silently telling him that it was okay to break. 

Even as Jean’s hands slid up under his shirt, as Jean’s lips met the taut skin of his navel, as he tried to pretend the damp touch of Jean’s skin wasn’t tears; he held him. His eyelids fluttered closed when rough thumbs brushed his nipples as his mouth travelled over the bones of Armin’s ribcage. The final test of Armin’s resilience broke _him_ instead. 

Jean let out a shaking breath, velvet tongue coasting over one of the dusky peaks and coaxing it to attention. He slipped Armin’s shirt off and let it fall, tracing a line on his skin to curl his tongue around his other nipple and roll the bud between his teeth. 

_Easy._ That was the only word that came to mind as Jean’s hands worked circles into the hard lines of his hips, sucking at the skin of his abdomen and sending hot spikes of pleasure through to his fingertips. “Jean…” he whispered his name, the echo of two thousand years. 

He fisted his hands in Jean’s shirt and pulled it away, pushing him down onto the bed as he kissed his throat and felt the rough stubble against his skin. His sighs of pleasure as Jean worked the plaid fabric down around his thighs only seemed to incense him further. 

Then he was lost, slender hands working over the pale skin of Jean’s chest; familiar paths on new flesh. Jean reached for something and Armin turned to take it, heart stuttering. _Of course he knew I’d give in._ He turned the bottle over in his fingers, keeping it from Jean’s reach. 

“Let me,” his voice was low and thick with lust as he slid his fingertips along Armin’s wrist. 

“I’ll do it,” Armin murmured his reply. 

“Let me,” he said it again, more insistently this time and Armin relented. _I have to be the distraction._ And when Jean’s lubed fingers brushed his opening and the first digit slid in he gasped aloud, fingers digging into the rough fabric of his jeans and wedging them down off his hips, barely able to flick the button open to give him room. 

It had been a while, Armin knew that from previous conversations, and when he caught Jean’s weeping cock in his hand his fingers stuttered; curling into him. Light flashed in his eyes as the surprise pressure on his prostate made him cry out. _Well at least now he knows where it is._

Come to think of it. How long had it been for him? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had time for sex much less someone to have sex with. He closed his eyes, hips jerking back against his hand this time as his hand stroked Jean in time; desperate for anything more than the third finger that stretched him open and made a sweat break on his feverish skin. 

“Oh Jean please--” he couldn’t stop the whimper as he thrust back on his hand haphazardly, breath hitching as the fingers were removed. 

“Christ you’re beautiful,” Jean’s deep voice reverberated in his chest as Armin shifted his weight, adjusting on his knees for a moment. His blue eyes were blown wide, a sliver of cerulean against pools of black, face flushed with long blonde hair stuck in strings to his temples. His bare skin was pale but for the purpling love bites left behind by Jean himself, the flat muscles of his body trembling with the effort as he slid down onto him. 

When their hips junctioned Armin stilled, unused to his size, shaking hands on his chest. Jean was nearly panting with effort, fingers digging bruises into his hips, as his glazed golden eyes looked up at Armin. 

“Jean,” his named was a prayer as he moved, one hand from his hips moving to stroke Armin in time with his movements, thumb twisting and pressing into the slit with each fresh slide. Was this all he ever wanted? All he ever needed? All along was he just moving towards this moment? He abandoned that thought, any thought, fucking himself senseless until he came undone. But he wasn’t about to stop moving, that wasn’t the point of this. Each new downward movement was a fresh peal of desperate pleasure beyond the threshold of pain; dragging Jean to completion with a stifled cry and tears in his eyes. 

He remembered being folded into powerful arms, nestling against the firm muscle of his chest as Jean pulled the blankets over them. This he could get used to, the hazy after-sex glow and being cuddled against someone’s chest. He felt safe and warm and comfortable. _I shouldn’t get too comfortable with him._ He thought as his eyes drooped closed to the sound of Jean’s heartbeat, the feeling of his fingers combing through his hair. 

\--- 

He woke sharply, aware of the cold in the room for the first time. _Where’s Jean?_ He ached in all the right ways, and some wrong ways, as he pulled a shirt on he thought might be his. _Did he just--_

“Oh you’re up,” the bedroom door opened and Armin’s lips parted. Jean was fully dressed, carrying breakfast on a plate. _He’s gotten so used to taking care of Marco._ He hurriedly pushed his hair back and pulled it back in a ponytail. “The family was up early this morning… you were sleeping pretty hard.” 

“Good morning,” Armin said a little stupidly and the flicker of a smile graced Jean’s eyes. 

“Good morning,” he handed him the plate, fingers of his free hand grazing his bare knee. “You have class tonight right?” His thumb brushed the skin lovingly and Armin’s heart ached. 

_Am I just a replacement?_

“Yes, and labs tomorrow but… I could come back tomorrow night.” 

“The funeral is on Friday. I have a lot to handle here, I’m sorry, but I would ask you to come then…” there was hesitance in his voice, sadness at having to handle things on his own. “About last night…” 

“I don’t… let’s not talk about it,” Armin smiled at him. “Now’s not the time.” 

“Sure,” Jean agreed. 

When Armin left, still wearing the shirt he’d put on tucked into his jeans, blonde hair jerked back from his face half-heartedly… his hands shook on the steering wheel. _What have I done?_ He trembled, all the images from the night before crossing his mind. _Oh god what have I done?_ Jean’s scent wafted up to him and he wanted to puke when he realized, finally, what he’d pulled on. 

_Why did I have to take his fucking shirt?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This and the third chapter correspond to chapter 7 of Metronome so if you've read it you're getting the fill right now of what went on between 5 and 7 in terms of everybody but Eren. 
> 
> Chapter title from "Broken Heart" by Motion City Soundtrack


	3. When and where? I'll be there.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the funeral emotions run high.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This is an early post for me today! I hope you enjoy it, it's a super long chapter and emotionally draining.
> 
> There's smut. Be happy.
> 
> There's a funeral. Be sad.
> 
> This is the final corresponding chapter to Chapter 7 of [The Rhythm of a Metronome](http://archiveofourown.org/works/978749/chapters/1926358).
> 
> tumblr: thingsishouldntbedoing
> 
> tracking: fic: soas, fic: the sound of a second

The day of the funeral dawned grey and gloomy as Armin brushed his hair, checking his suit patiently in the mirror. He had one class that morning, then he would meet the others there, but his only concern was for Jean. 

_Maybe I should have gone out there._ He but his bottom lip. _Were my classes really more important?_ Or was he avoiding Jean? Trying to keep from causing him more pain and suffering by being a constant reminder of what had happened that night. 

_Maybe I shouldn't go._ But regret filled his heart at the mere thought of leaving Jean to suffer without even saying a word, without paying his respects to a good friend that cared so desperately for both of them. 

So he skipped his class and stepped into his car; it was time he faced this problem and dealt with it. 

\--- 

"Yes thank you," Jean accepted consolation from friends and family gracefully but his eyes were dark and lifeless. He felt like he was walking in a dream; all he wanted to do was talk to Marco about everything... Or talk to Armin at least. 

Armin. He hadn't called in three days, he'd only received a few texts in all that time as well and short ones at that. _Have I hurt him? Maybe we should have talked about that night?_ Then the anger started in his chest. _Well what the hell do I have to apologize for? What does he want from me? He fucks me and then vanishes to Massachusetts and never even calls? I was mourning and I needed someone and guess who wasn't there Marco? He just ran as fast as he could without a second thought to me._

His anger was irrational, painful in a whole new way. All he'd wanted all week was for Armin to be there; to have some stability in his life... Someone who had been there for Marco's last days and understood the pain of his final hours. “Where’s Armin?" Jean asked a little critically as Eren arrived, accepting his hug and then Mikasa's. 

"He's coming, he had class remember?" Mikasa asked softly. "I think he's left by now, though." 

"Is he really?" Jean could see the look Eren gave him and felt anger well in his chest again. "Damnit Jaeger what is your problem?" 

"I--" it was so familiar Eren was taken aback, the aggression and pain in Jean's eyes. It had been there before, somewhere deep in his dreams. "I'm sorry." 

Jean's rage subsided slightly and he sighed, running his tired fingers through his hair. Eren's reassuring grip on his shoulder and the gentle rub of his thumb on his collarbone made him feel better, though and he leaned into the touch. "God damnit... How did this happen again?" He murmured. 

For the first time Jean could talk about his experiences. There was someone here other than Marco who knew of his dreams, who knew what he saw with such intimate detail... Someone who could understand his mourning in a deeper way than just a simple loss of love. 

This was more complicated, tied into all the lost he'd had before... The loss of Marco the first time was hard enough. Or maybe it wasn't the first? Maybe there were infinite numbers of worlds and universes; Jeans and Marcos that would never meet or maybe they'd live happily ever after or maybe Jean was the one to leave Marco behind... But those universes weren't this one, and were of no comfort as his shoulders trembled. 

"There are no more titans," Eren murmured. "But you lost him again anyway." 

"The world is cruel," Mikasa added and Jean lifted his head. Such a familiar phrase. 

"I suppose you're right," he sighed heavily when Eren released his grip. 

"It's going to take time," Mikasa said softly. But Jean wasn't listening, he was looking over her head at someone that had just walked in. 

"Armin..." Jean moved towards him, torn between relief and fury. He had shown up at least. But that meant he was there and that he's only come for Marco. _He's just doing all this because Marco made him._ He was about to catch his attention when Marco's high school friends detained him to reminisce. 

\--- 

Armin spotted him as he walked in, talking softly to Eren and Mikasa. Somehow his nerve had failed on the drive; the thought of confronting him and telling him that _maybe this wasn't a good idea_ had faltered and he was left watching the sadness drawn into the line of Jean's shoulders. 

When he made eye contact with him Armin felt something stir in his belly, there was hurt in his golden eyes… but curiosity above all things. _Have I hurt him?_ When he was waylaid Armin breathed a sigh of relief; another moment of peace before he’d have to talk about it. 

_Why am I avoiding it?_ He thought it might be because it would hurt too bad to hear him say those words. To hear him tell him that nothing was real and it was just a moment of weakness… to tell him what Armin knew to be the truth: dreams only last for a night. Dreams and nightmares and memories were nothing compared to the real thing; the real feeling of love and whatever remnants had transferred to Armin from his past life… they meant nothing. 

The service was hard, perhaps harder than Armin had thought it would be, but he was glad that Jean hadn’t been given the chance to hunt him down. _Maybe I’m being selfish. It would be better for his conscience to tell me… wouldn’t it?_ He sat through it, taking Eren’s hand when he sniffled. 

“Are you okay?” He asked at barely a whisper and Eren offered a quivering smile through his tears. _This has been hard for Eren too… I’ve been so selfish._ Armin’s lip quivered and he squeezed Eren’s hand tighter. _I’ve just been worried about me and my own problems but not considering everybody else…_ He furrowed his brows. 

When the procession ended Armin rose, face hot with shame, and retreated for the back of the chapel. “Armin!” He heard Eren’s voice but all he wanted to do was leave. He didn’t want to cause a scene, to start something he couldn’t stop, to find himself the center of attention at a gathering for the people who cared for his friend. 

“Armin!” Eren caught his arm and jerked him around in the hallway. “Where are you going?” 

“You know what Eren sometimes people don’t have to tell you everything they’re doing!” Armin snapped back, tension tight in his shoulders. “Why can’t you just leave people alone, Eren?” 

“What?” He looked taken aback, tears drying on his cheeks. 

“Why can’t you just leave people alone! If you weren’t such a meddling asshole! If you could just fucking leave people alone! If you could just forget about all this shit I’d--” He broke and caught the front of Eren’s suit jacket. “I could have just been okay being alone, Eren!” His voice raised just slightly as he dragged him down a hallway. “Never meeting Jean and never meeting Marco and never being in this fucking situation! But you couldn’t just leave well enough alone!” Tears spilled out of his eyes. 

“Armin…” 

“No Eren! Shut the hell up!” His throat burned around the words. “Just… just for once shut the hell up because you’ve caused us all enough fucking trouble!” He knew Jean was watching, could see him standing in the mouth of the hallway with a dark look in his eyes. “I’m going home, Eren… just think about all this and what you’ve done to a bunch of people that were fine without knowing each other,” he let Eren go and turned, walking out the door. 

Jean watched him leave, glancing at the destroyed look on Eren’s face, then turned to follow him. _Maybe Armin’s right. Maybe Eren shouldn’t have introduced us._ He pulled his suit jacket off and loosened his tie as he caught Armin’s shoulder and shoved him up against the door of his car. So many people had left now, gone to follow the procession to the graveyard, the silence of the car lot made the sound of Armin’s heartbeat louder in his ears as he searched his eyes. 

“You’ve been avoiding me,” his voice was steady as Armin sucked in air. 

“I thought it was best,” those beautiful blue eyes cast aside; liquid and despondent. 

“You didn’t call, you just left me there with my family.” 

“Well I thought you’d…” 

“What? Regret it? You think I’d…” his voice faltered. “You think for one fucking second I wasn’t aware of what was happening?” 

“It’s okay, Jean, I was a comfort and that’s okay just… it was a mistake. I just thought I’d give you your distance, you know?” 

“Mistake?!” His voice was incredulous as he slammed his hand on the roof of the car, Armin flinching at his aggression. “You think you’re a god damned mistake?” 

“Jean it’s foolish to… do anything right now! You just lost Marco! You’re hurt and angry! Please don’t start this just mourn!” 

“God damn it Armin don’t you think I’m an adult? I’m not some 15 year old kid again! This wasn’t some fucking shock. I didn’t stumble upon his body in an ash covered street! I didn’t wake up the next day to a cold bed and an aching heart… I had _you_.” 

Armin couldn’t keep his sob down, covering his face. 

“And yeah! You’re not what I wanted at that moment; I wanted to wake up to Marco’s face and see him there beside me again… I wanted to think that he wasn’t gone but _damn it_ Armin! If you think for a second that anything that happened between us meant nothing…” When Armin finally hazarded a look he found hurt and anger in bullion eyes that threatened to melt his heart. “Back then…” 

“God! Stop sounding like Eren! You’re both the same, you always have been! You attribute too much to what happened in the past; to a god damned dream… to--” He was kissing him all too suddenly, mouth slotting against Armin’s in a desperate attempt to shut him up. 

Armin found himself wrapping his arms around him, warm in the chill of October, kissing back with a fury. It felt so natural to be here. To be with him. Even if it filled him with sadness and regret. Even if the pressure of Jean’s hips against his and the heat spilling into his belly as Jean laid open mouthed kisses against his throat were intoxicating… they made his heart ache. 

If only he’d listened to Marco. 

He couldn’t remember when they’d ended up in the car, pressed for space as he straddled Jean’s waist and kissed him so desperately the cold of the car was quickly washed away. 

Jean’s fingers fumbled with the fastens of his pants, jerking them down his hips and stroking his half hard cock to attention as Armin groaned, barely able to unbutton Jean’s dress shirt. He had some concerns about this entire situation, most importantly-- he groaned aloud as Armin caught his hand and slid his fingers into his mouth. _So that answers that question._ His tongue flicked between his fingers, coating them thick with saliva as Jean’s hand stuttered in its ministrations. 

He arched up when Armin reached to tug his slacks down, giving a laugh when Armin cursed. “There’s no room I’m sorry,” Armin nearly giggled, gasping when Jean’s fingers stroked along the cleft of his ass. He let out a soft laugh at just how ridiculous they must look, how ridiculous they must seem, so desperate to think about literally anything else but their current predicament. 

“I like it when you laugh,” Jean murmured. The depth of his voice, the rumble in his chest, the finger working its way carefully into him… all of them sent jolts of delight through his limbs but the happiness that bubble up in his chest was enough to make him laugh again. 

Laughing at a funeral. 

Well he’d finally crossed everything off his bucket list. 

The heady rush of marking a rhythm for the first time in this cramped space; the sounds of their breathless groans and giddy laughter. It was a strange kind of intimacy; a comfortable one that felt so natural it was easier to be together than to breathe. It was all Jean could do to keep his eyes open and watch the man above him; to lose himself in the sight of Armin rutting desperately against each thrust of his hips with his long blonde hair clinging to his open mouth as he came. 

He was the most beautiful thing Jean had ever seen. 

\--- 

“You have to go to the burial,” Armin said softly as Jean fastened his shirt again, cleaning up haphazardly with an old shirt Armin had left in the back seat. 

“Please don’t leave again,” Jean murmured and watched a smile pass across Armin’s features. 

“Jean…” 

“No Armin. I can’t do this again. I don’t want to spent the next three days wondering what happened between us…” He caught his hand in his hair. “I know I’m broken right now… but I can’t be without you.” Their lips met chastely and Armin’s heart ached. 

“If you really want this, if you want to be with me Jean I want to know it’s you that wants me. I want to know that you’re not just doing this because of Marco or because of some stupid dream because… I’m not dream Armin and you’re not dream Jean and we can’t be together based on that fact.” 

“I’ll chase you down, Armin.” 

“This isn’t a movie. You can’t just come running through the snow yelling my name with a dozen roses,” Armin placed his hand on his chest. “Jean take some time to yourself, please, I can’t do this to either of us. Just mourn and… I want this to be right between us.” His heart ached; if he turned him down enough what if he lost his chance. 

“Okay,” that word broke his heart. 

\--- 

Armin was nearly two hours into his drive, thinking a little too hard, when he realized he’d left Eren behind at the funeral home. _Shit._ He dialed his number, waiting patiently for him to pick up. _C’mon Eren I’m sorry!_ He dialed again but was met with Eren’s cheerful voice saying: ‘Hi this is Eren! Leave a message and I’ll get back to you soon!’ 

_Mikasa._ He’d call her instead. She was more responsible than Eren by a long shot. 

_“Armin? I didn’t see you when we left is everything okay?”_ Her voice sounded worried as soon as she answered. 

“Yeah I’m fine I didn’t mean to worry you… are you home?” 

_“Yes I was just going to check on Eren… he wasn’t very happy earlier and I’m kind of worried about him,_ ” he could hear her walking up the stairs. 

“Aren’t they ever going to finish working on that elevator; Eren needs to move.” 

“ _Did you talk to Jean?_ ” The silence on the other end of the line was enough for Mikasa he was sure. “ _Eren_?” He heard her push his door opened. 

“I’ve told him to lock the damned door… that Levi guy gives me the creeps sometimes. Check inside he might be sleeping.” 

“ _No he’s not here, Armin_ ,” she walked over and knocked on Levi’s door. 

“ _Oh… so you’re Levi_ ,” Mikasa’s voice sounded disapproving. “ _Have you seen Eren_?” Armin bit his bottom lip, nervous still about this man. 

“ _He’s in here resting,_ ” Levi’s suave voice came over the line and Armin wanted to roll his eyes. _I wonder if he puts that voice on or if it’s really what he sounds like._

“ _Hey, sis_ ,” Eren said sheepishly and Armin frowned at the shadows flickering across his steering wheel, “ _Is that Armin on the phone_?” 

“ _What are you doing over here_?” 

“ _I wasn’t feeling well_.” 

“ _If you’re sure. I’ve found him, Armin_ ,” she told him. 

“Okay… I’ll be there in a bit keep him occupied I just… I’ll pick up some beer on the way I promise,” he couldn’t hear the tail end of what Eren was saying but he heard Levi’s voice reverberate around the empty landing. _I guess at least he’s okay._

\--- 

Armin braced himself outside the door, thinking back to that afternoon and almost regretting the thought. _He won’t come for me._ He knocked on Eren’s door, not surprised when the door swung on in its hinges. 

“God damn it Eren why don’t you ever lock your door?” Armin scolded as a controller clattered to the ground and his friend wrapped him up in his arms. He could see Mikasa standing up with a reassuring smile on her face and a warmth spilled into him. He was home again; a safe place where there was no question of his standing or his meaning. Where he didn’t have to worry that he was just a replacement for someone, that he was simply a fragment of a distant memory of love. 

Everything was normal again, without ever having to say a word. He nuzzled his face into his friend’s neck and hugged him back tightly. “Did you bring the beer?” Eren said against his ear and Armin laughed aloud at the tickling feeling. 

The best part of being home, of being in the warmth of Eren’s pajama pants and Eren’s shirt was that everything felt familiar. But somehow the scent of his best friend wasn’t quite the same as the scent that had clung to the shirt he’d been wearing to death since he’d brought it home. 

“Are you okay?” Mikasa asked and Armin sighed. 

“Yes of course, I’m sorry…” He drew his eyes away from the window. “Where were we?” He snuggled under the blankets between them, smiling faintly. _I can’t worry about that now…_

So when he was swept away with the joy of the moment; following his best friends down the stairs, the last thing he expected was this. 

“Hey,” a familiar voice said. There he was. Standing in the foyer with ice in his hair and snow dripping down his suit pants. There he was with a bouquet of red roses thick with sleet. 

It made his heart stop. 

“Jean…” He brushed past Mikasa and Eren, tears burning his eyes in the cold breeze from the front door. “Jean.” He said again as he wrapped his arms around him, letting him tighten his grip around his waist and bury his cold face against his neck. 

“I told you I’d chase you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Together" by The xx.
> 
> See you guys Saturday! Maybe. Pokemon comes out that day. You might never see me again. <3

**Author's Note:**

> There may be a series tag created later today so they can both be tracked at the same time.


End file.
